So Help Me God: or, You’re Welcome, Mr. Citizen: Part 8

I just want to be respectedBy the country and the people I so love;I just want to be accepted,Get back to the life I left behindAnd enjoy the little things forgone.You know, son, your saliva just mightBe the cleanest damn waterThat’s touched my lips in quite a while.

But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll goSomewhere to get a cool drink and a hot meal;Because even a vine like me that bearsBitter fruit needs to be watered. Nurtured.Maybe us fighters are just branchesThat got thorns growing on them,But God cultivates us all the same,So perhaps it’s time I forget you, boy,And look forward to picking seasonWhen the holy gardener comes in gloryTo trample on the grapes of wrathSo the crop of peace can grow tallAnd suffocate those awful weeds of war.